Page 1 of Property of Crypt Keeper

PROLOGUE

KATALINA, 1926 ORANGE COUNTY, CALIFORNIA

“Kat, you should come over tonight, and we could go down to the Huntington Beach Pier,” my friend Missy offered as we were walking out of the school building and down the front steps. Her bobbed blonde hair swayed sassily as we descended.

My hand tightly clutched my tote strap, and I had to force myself to loosen it. I gave her a smile that I hoped resonated as true. “Oh, I’d love to, but I’m sorry, I promised my uncle I’d drive up the coast with him early in the morning.”

“Well, bollocks. Another time?” she asked in her British accent. She and her parents had moved here to California shortly before I had. It was part of the reason we’d become such fast friends. Both of us were foreign and new to the area.

“Of course,” I replied.

We left the building and each made our way to the line of motor cars waiting for pick-up. She gave me a hug and rushed off to where her driver awaited. It said something about the school I attended that the majority of the vehicles were imported luxury cars driven by personal chauffeurs.

My long, pleated skirt caught the wind and fluttered. I tugged my jacket closed and walked toward the fifth car where my uncle awaited by the back door of his Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost. He unlatched the rear-hinged coach door, swinging it open with a flourish, and motioned me inside.

I’d been living with him in America for the last four years since my father was murdered and my mother disappeared. Disappeared? That’s what everyone thought, anyway. I knew she was dead. She would never have simply left me.

My uncle had owned one of the first oil wells to open in 1920, and he quickly added to his already considerable wealth. Though he enjoyed lavish parties and dinners, I’d never seen him with a date. In a way, I felt bad because I wondered if I was cramping his style.

He rounded the car and took his seat next to me. The driver closed his door. “Would you like to dine at The Golden Bear tonight? Séamus will be visiting for a couple of days.”

“No,” I unemotionally replied. Séamus was like another uncle to me, perhaps more so, as I felt a certain kinship to him due to our personalities being more similar.

My uncle remained silent for a bit.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he quietly asked me in Romanian.

“Yes.”

My response was immediate and definitive.

He sighed. “You already know my thoughts on this, but I also don’t think it’s a bad idea for you to know how to defend yourself. You will need to learn to control yourself as well as protect yourself as you get older. However, you will always have my bodyguards available to you. The need to become a ninja or a slugger is unnecessary.”

“I know.” Though I knew he was trying to tease me, I stared blankly out the window at the passing Huntington Beach scenery, none of it registering.

“Very well,” he muttered, then began reading the newspaper he was rarely without.

Inside, I was nervous and coiled. My uncle wanted me to take a simple self-defense course. That wasn’t what I wanted. Though I would never admit to him what my true end goal was, I was preparing.

Because one day, I would exact my revenge for the death of my parents.

“Again,” I insisted as I painfully got to my feet and spit blood on the floor.

“No. We are done for the day,” my instructor, Rafael, calmly replied as he began unwrapping his hands.

“I said, again,” I demanded through clenched teeth. In the mirrors that lined the walls of the room, I saw the blood on my teeth.

Rafael froze and slowly lifted his gaze to mine. The corner of his mouth ticked up before he stepped closer.

Boldly, I held his gaze as I stared up at him.

“Katalina, trust me when I tell you that we are far from done. Also know that when I am done with you, you will be relentless, precise, and deadly,” he murmured. “But I have an engagement I must get to and as it is, I’ve stayed too long. I will see you tomorrow. Rest up.”

He patted my cheek like I was a small child, and I wanted to gnash my teeth at his departing back, but I remained quiet and still.

After the door closed to my uncle’s ballroom we’d taken over as a training studio, I let out the breath I realized I’d been holding.

On Monday morning, Missy gasped. “Oh my! What happened to you?” She reached out a hand, but as she made contact, I flinched away.